


The Red Serge Scare

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-02
Updated: 1999-11-02
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11132427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A Halloween prank gets frowns, and a Halloween party goes horribly wrong.





	The Red Serge Scare

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Red Serge Scare

## The Red Serge Scare

by Drum Queen

Author's webpage: http://gURLpages.com/nolabel/drum.queen/index.html

Author's disclaimer: All caracters are copywright Alliance.

* * *

**THE RED SERGE SCARE**

Diefenbaker grabbed the bag of orange and black streamers in his mouth and trotted over to the ladder that Jack Huey was standing on. Huey spotted him, climbed down and took the bag. "Thanks Dief." He climbed back up and began to tape them to the wall. "You guys really get festive with Halloween," Ray Vecchio pointed out to Huey and his partner, Thomas Dewey. "You like it more than Christmas." "Oh, I've always loved Halloween," Huey said, as he taped the streamers. "It's always fueled the child in me. It gives me a chance to dress up in a costume and be someone that I'm not, even if it's just for one night. It stirs the imagination." Dewey taped a picture of a witch onto the wall. "I was always in it for 
    
    
    the candy."     "Gee" Huey said sarcasticly, "you're really sentimental."
            "I've always liked Halloween myself," Benton Fraser said. "Every year
    

in Alert, I would get together with my friends and tell ghost stories by the fireplace. No matter what, I could tell the best stories. Of course, since my grandparents were librarians, it wasn't hard to find a good ghost story." Ray shook his head. "I think Halloween is creepy." 
    
    
            "Creepy?" Huey gasped. "It's awesome."
            "Halloween is when all the freaks come out to play," Ray reminded. "You
    

never hear about freaks coming out to play on Easter Sunday or on Thanksgiving. 
    
    
    It's always Halloween."         "Ray, where's your sense of fun?" Dewey asked.
            Fraser scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. "Well, I can understand
    

how you feel, Ray. All Hallow's Eve is the day when the spirits of the dead supposedly come back to the earth. The costumes that have been traditionally worn were used to scare away the spirits and ghosts. Often the costumes nowadays are used not to scare ghosts, but for wrongdoing." Suddenly, a scream was heard on the other side of the room. Francesca Vecchio-Turnbull slid her chair away from her desk in fright. Her face was white, and she looked like she had seen a ghost herself. "Frannie, what's wrong?" Ray ran over to her desk. "Are you hurt?" "In the...the top drawer," she managed to studder out. 

Ray looked in the top drawer. To his surprise, there was a worm-eaten, disembodied hand inside, reaching out toward him. A single cobweb stretched 
    
    
    between the thumb and index finger.     "GROSS!" Ray exclaimed.
            Just then, Huey and Dewey bursted out laughing. They gave each other
    

a high five. "You fell for it!" Dewey chuckled. "I can't believe that you two fell for it!" "Did I mention," Huey said, "that I also love pulling pranks on Halloween?" "You little finks!" Francesca said, standing up and facing them. "I could have had a heart attack, and all you can do is laugh at me." "That's enough," boomed the voice of Harding Welsh. He walked over to the desk and looked at Huey and Dewey. "Detectives, what is going on here? I want an explination." "It was just a little Halloween joke, sir," Huey explained. "No harm was done." "HA!" Francesca spat. "That's a laugh." 

"Francesca, sit," Welsh demanded. She did obediently, and he returned his glare to the detectives. "I don't want any more pranks from you two, understand." "Yes, sir," they said in unison. 
    
    
            "I'm not going to any Halloween party," Ray insisted, as he drove to
    the Canadian Consolate.         "Ray, it is merely a chance to enjoy yourself.
    

It isn't meant to suggest that you should believe in ghosts." "What would I dress up as, huh? A fairy princess?" 
    
    
            Fraser shook his head. "Of course not. That's just silly, Ray."
            "Well, what will you dress up ask?" Ray asked.
            "I'm not quite sure yet, myself."
            "See? Even you don't know what do dress up as."
            "Well," Fraser pointed out, "we haven't had much time to think about
    it. We just got invited today."         Ray rolled his eyes. "Not only did Huey
    

and Dewey decide to plan a stupid party and invite everyone at the station, they're inviting Jessie Henderson." He groaned at the thought of seeing the thirteen year old at the party. "Ray," Benton reminded, "I am her mentor, and Halloween is on a Saturday, the day that I mentor her. They 
    
    
    thought that it was only fair."         "Yeah, yeah." Ray stopped his Riviera
    at the Consolate. "See ya, Benny."      "I'll see you tomorrow, Ray." Fraser
    

headed up the steps of the Consolate. "Hello, Constable Fraser," said Renfield Turnbull, who sat at his desk in the fron halllway of the Consolate. "How was your day at the police station?" "It was fine, thank you." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "You and Francesca have been invited to a Halloween party at the Consolate." He handed the invitation to Turnbull. "Oh goody!" he said. "Do we get to wear costumes?" 
    
    
            "Yes."
            "Life is good," Turnbull sighed. "What are you dressing up as?"
            Fraser frowned. "I'm not quite sure."
            "I have ideas for both of us." Turnbull smiled.
            "What are they?"
    

Fraser wore a black suit. His eyes were covered with black sunglasses. A cord led up to a small radio headphone in his ear. He was a secret agent. "You look great, Constable Fraser," Turnbull said. He was dressed as a gangster. "Now I've got 'Secret Agent Man' running through my head," Francesca, who was dressed as a cat, complained. Ray slowly looked around the corner, and them came into the squad room. He was decked from head to toe in Fraser's mountie uniform. "I cannot believe that you made me do this," he moaned. "I'm very sorry Ray." 
    
    
            "You are not! Do you know how much this tunic itches?"
            "Well, if you had found a real costume," Jessie Henderson reminded,
    "you wouldn't have to dress like this."         "Did I ask you, army girl?"
            Welsh stood by the punch bowl, wearing a devil costume. "I haven't dressed
    

up for thirty-six years," he told Inspector Meg Thatcher, a witch. "I feel so uncomfortable. "I know. I feel out of place myself." She ran her fingers through her brown hair, which now had green streaks in it. 
    
    
    "I haven't dyed my hair since high school."     "You dyed your hair?"
            "It was for a school play; I had to have red hair."
            Dewey, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, laid out the plates with the
    

pieces of cake; Huey, the magician, was at the CD player putting in the first disc, Michael Jackson's "Thriller". After about half an hour of dancing and eating, the music stopped, and Huey flipped the lightswitch down. The room was dark except for a single flashlight. "Alright you 
    
    
    guys," he said wickedly, "it's time for the games."     "Oh no," Ray moaned.
            "All right!" Jessie cheered.
            "Everybody sit in a circle," Dewey explained. "We're going to do a story.
    

I'll start, and then I'll pass the flashlight to someone else. They have to continue the story." "You go ahead without me," Francesca suggested. "I have to go powder my nose." She picked up her purse and went to the bathroom. "All right," Dewey said after everyone sat down. "Many years ago, a police station much like this one sat empty, except for one lone cop finishing up his paperwork. He had lost track of time, and it was near midnight when the cop finished. He picked up his coat and was about to leave when he heard a noise..." 

"The mysterious voice whispered throughout the morgue, 'Come closer, come closer.' The cop didn't know why, but he couldn't stop following the voice." Fraser looked around the circle. He was the fifth person to tell the story. "The cop reached over the body on the table and took 
    
    
    the shroud in his hand. Suddenly--"     "AHHHHHHHH!"
            Everyone gasped at the sound of Turnbull's scream. They looked at the
    

mountie, who was white as a sheet. "Sp-sp-spider!" he studdered, pointing at the bug on the floor. Welsh groaned, stood up, and stepped on the spider. "Are you happy now?" "Where's Francesca?" Turnbull asked. 

Thatcher frowned. "She has been gone for a long time, hasn't she?" "I want my Francesca!" Turnbull cried, putting his head on Jessie's shoulder. "Don't you think you're being a little possessive?" Huey asked. 
    
    
            Fraser stood up and walked to the doorway. taking the flashlight with
    him. "If Francesca is in trouble, we have to go help her."      Turnbull
    

stood up. "I'm going with you. Aren't you coming Ray? She is your sister." "No way. I'm staying here. She's probably playing a joke on us." He looked at Fraser. "Can you at least turn on the lights for us?" he asked, scratching his arm. "You're the one with the flashlight, after all." Fraser reached over and hit the lightswitch. Nothing happeded. He hit it a couple more times. The lights didn't come back on. "Great." Ray shook his head. He turned to Huey and Dewey. "If this is another one of your pranks..." "It isn't, I swear!" Huey insisted. 

"Sure." Ray stood up. "I might as well go. I have a bone to pick with her about this prank." "Hey, you aren't leaving me here!" Jessie exclaimed, standing up. "Nothing like a good adventure to stir the adreanoline, 
    
    
    that's what I always say."      Thatcher shook her head. "Jessie, you will
    go to the farthest lengths to tag along with Fraser, won't you?"        Jessie
    

turned around. "The guy's inspired me," she admitted. "If I was Canadian, I'd want to be a mountie, too." She spun back around and headed for the door. 

"Francesca, where are you?" Turnbull cried. "Please, don't be dead." "I highly doubt that she is dead, Turnbull," Fraser reassured. 
    
    
            "Yeah, then where is she?" Ray asked.
            "Well..."
            "Fraser, where is my sister?" He grabbed Fraser by the shoulders. "This
    

is not going to end up like some sort of slasher movie, you understand?" "Vecchio, calm down." Welsh came down the hallway and stopped where the others were standing. Behind him were Huey, Dewey, and Thatcher. "What are you doing here?" Jessie asked. 

"We're scared of the dark," Dewey admitted. "Have yound her yet?" "We've looked all over except for the basement." Fraser began to walk toward the stairs. "She must be down here. I smell perfume, I think it's Chanel." "That's Francesca's perfume!" Turnbull ran downstairs. "FRANCESCA!" They followed the smell of Chanel to the morgue. The door was locked, so Ray and Fraser kicked it down. "Francesca!" Thatcher called. "Are you in here?" 

"Frannie!" Dewey ran to the closet and threw open the door. "Are you hiding? We're coming." "Where did you get that line?" Welsh asked. "That sounds like a chick thing to say." "HEY!" Thatcher and Jessie said at the same time. 
    
    
            "Sorry."
            Fraser looked at the counter where a single body lay. "Shouldn't that
    be in the freezer?"     "Guess Mort is a sloppy mortician," Ray suggested.
            "Well, the least we could do is put it...him, her...in the freezer."
    Fraser walked over to the counter.      "Are nuts?" Ray asked. "Fraser, that
    

is a body that was once alive and is now dead. You do not mess with those unless you are payed to do so." "Ray, give me a hand with this." Fraser lifted the head. Then he stopped. "I wonder who it is," he said aloud. He pulled away the blanket. The body sat up. It was an ugly face, mutilated in every way. The scalp had been sliced, the skin had been scratched, and the browline had been bruised. The body let out a low moan. "AAAHHHH!" Huey and Dewey screamed and hid behind Welsh. "It's gonna eat us!" Dewey claimed. Just then, Welsh began to chuckle. Then the body joined him, and soon everyone in the room was laughing as Francesca pulled off her bloody mask. "You fell for it!" Ray laughed. "I can't believe you fell 
    
    
    for it!"        "It was a joke?" Huey said, stunned. 
            "Duh!" Jessie moaned. "We were all in on it, too. Even the story we
    

were telling was part of it." Dewey fumed. "I am so going to hurt you people." 

Ray stepped in between the partners and put an arm around each of them. "I told you, Halloween is when the freaks come out to play." "I can think of one in particular," Huey replied. 


End file.
